That's My Baby!. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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me into marriage, you should have forbidden me ever to touch you again.”
Her throat closed. He was so hard on himself, more judgmental than she could ever be. “Nat, don’t—”
“But you let me touch you, let me love you, because you have a good and generous heart.” He moved over her, his gaze holding hers. “And for that, I’m eternally grateful.”
“I could never turn you away,” she whispered.
“You should.” He eased the tip of his penis inside her and closed his eyes. “God knows you should.”
“I can’t.” She cupped his buttocks in her hands. “I want this as much as you.”
He opened his eyes. “Then, besides being too generous, you’re a fool, a bigger fool than I am. And I’m going to take advantage of that, Jess. One more time.” He thrust forward and closed his eyes with a groan. “So sweet. Oh, Jess.”
She dug her fingers into his buttocks and held him tight inside her. Yes, the condom made a difference, separating them in a way that seemed unfair. She wanted him flesh to flesh, as close as they’d been before. But she couldn’t have that, and what she could have was very good indeed. He filled the emptiness that had tortured her ever since he left.
He opened his eyes, and they were blazing with passion. His voice was thick with restrained desire. “When I’m inside you like this, I own the world.”
She stroked her hands up the knotted muscles of his back and slipped them around to cradle his beloved, bearded face. “So do I.” Her smile quivered as she gazed up at him. “I thought this was going to be fast and furious.”
“It will be, the minute I move. I just want to savor this part, the first time I push deep, and I’m leaning over you like this, looking into your eyes, watching them get all dark and soft, seeing your cheeks flush. And your freckles stand out.”
“They do?”
“Yeah, and I’ve missed that so much. I’ve missed every crazy thing about you, Jess. Your herbal teas, your bossiness—”
“I’m not bossy.”
He chuckled. “Yes, you are.”
“I’ve missed your laugh.” She felt his penis stir within her and knew he’d begin to move soon.
“I’ve missed your happy little moans.” He eased down onto his elbows, so that his chest brushed her nipples. “Lace your fingers through mine,” he murmured. “Like we used to do.”
She knew exactly what he meant. It had been their favorite way of making love. She slipped her hands under his so they were palm to palm, fingers intertwined.
Looking deep into her eyes, he gripped her hands tightly in his. “I’ve missed the way your mouth opens, just a little, when I start stroking.” He eased back and came forward again. “Like you want to be open…everywhere.” He picked up the rhythm.
“I missed the look in your eyes when you’re close to coming,” she whispered breathlessly. “You look like a fierce warrior.”
He pumped more vigorously, and his voice was hoarse. “Then I must look pretty fierce right now.”
“Yes. Magnificent.” The grip of his hands was almost painful, but she didn’t care. His frantic desire drove her straight to the edge of the precipice with him.
“Oh, Jess.” He gasped for breath as he plunged into her again and again. “Can you?”
“I’m there, Nat. Love me. Love me hard.”
He groaned. “Oh, Jess.”
They came apart together, clutching each other wildly as their control shattered.
As they lay panting and spent, she caressed his sweat-soaked back. “Welcome home,” she murmured.
ALL HIS LIFE people had accused Steven Pruitt of being an egghead. By now he was damn proud of the label. In fact, he figured that his eggheadedness was the key to making him enormously rich. Someday he’d be the one staying at the Waldorf. Right under Russell P. Franklin’s nose.
In the meantime, he had to be patient. When he thought of the money he would wring out of Russell P. when this thing came down, he could be patient. Trailing Jessica wasn’t so different from some of the investigative-reporting assignments he’d had. He’d never needed much sleep, and catnapping on a bench where he could keep tabs on the entrance to the hotel was uncomfortable but bearable.
Some people might think six months of trailing someone in order to kidnap them was too long. But they didn’t understand the thrill of the chase. He hadn’t understood it, either, until he’d begun following Jessica. Once he’d found out what a rush this cat-and-mouse game could give him, he’d decided to enjoy it for as long as his money lasted. He’d probably never get to feel this much like James Bond again in his life.
He ought to be good for another month or two. What a feeling of power he felt whenever he made her run. By now he knew her well, probably better than the guy she was shacked up with in the Waldorf.
The guy was an unexpected turn of events, but Steven didn’t consider him a major obstacle. He might even be of some help. He and Jessica obviously had something going between them, and there was nothing like a little hanky-panky to make people careless. That was all Steven needed to make his dreams come true when he was finally ready to make the snatch—one careless moment.
A KNOCK AT THE HOTEL DOOR woke Nat from a dreamless sleep caused by pure exhaustion. He staggered out of bed, not quite sure where he was.
“Maid service,” called a woman through the closed door.
Everything came back to him, and he glanced over at the bed to see if Jess was still in it. The bed was empty. He panicked. She’d left him after all. She didn’t trust him not to call her parents and give her location away.
“Come back later!” he called to the maid. Then he heard water running and dashed into the bathroom to find Jess calmly brushing her teeth. Naked.
“What’s wrong?” she asked around a mouthful of toothpaste foam.
“I thought you’d taken off.” He grabbed her and kissed her, foam and all. And just like that, once they were skin against skin once more, he was in the same condition he’d been ever since he and Jess had arrived in this hotel room. Apparently he’d stored up a lot of sexual tension in the past seventeen months, and he’d become very particular about who could relieve it. He’d narrowed the candidates down to one, as a matter of fact.
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